Does Anyone Follow Plan A?

 

Did you say alfalfa? The flock in February.

I'm a list maker.

I'm a planner.

I don't know why I have sheep.

On this week's to-do list: separate pregnant and non-pregnant ewes. Move the non-pregnant group to the big barn.

For much of the fall and winter, the ewes have lived as one big flock. They grazed on the pasture and ate first-cutting hay. A few participated in the daily dog training ritual.

Now that the ewes are in their third trimester, they get a break from dog training. More importantly, they get a feeding upgrade. Alfalfa hay is added to their rations.

The non-pregnant ewes do not get alfalfa hay. They don't need the extra calories, and alfalfa hay is expensive.

When I separate the flock, the pregnant ewes remain in the sheep/horse barn. The non-pregnant group move about, depending on the weather. If it's not raining, snowing or blowing sideways, they hang out in the pasture with the pine trees. When the weather is bad, I move them to the other barn that is big and spacious and has neither electricity nor running water.

Fun facts about sheep: When the weather is cold, they eat a lot more hay. When the pasture is snow-covered, they eat a lot more hay. When sheep eat more hay, they drink a lot more water. In fact they drink gallons of water. Water weighs about 8 lbs. a gallon.

We received our first ground-covering snow for the year on Sunday. With temperatures staying below freezing, it's stuck around. When looking at the weather report to determine the best day for sheep sorting, I saw this: 9 degrees, 7 degrees, minus 2 degrees.

Visions of frozen water buckets danced in my head. When temperatures dip to the single digits, buckets of water freeze in less than an hour. Without heated water buckets, it becomes harder to ensure sheep have fresh water.

And, so I made new plans.

Because alfalfa hay was readily available this year, I'd bought more than I planned to use. I'd hoped this would be the year I had alfalfa bales left over. Whether that happens is still too early to tell.

However, I'll be using those extra bales in the coming week to supplement the entire flock with alfalfa hay. The entire flock is staying together until temperatures climb above freezing during the days. They'll stay in the sheep/horse barn that has both electricity and running water. And I'll try not to cringe when I feed the non-pregnant ewes expensive alfalfa hay.

Living on a farm, I've learned that plans are great, but drought, flood, winds, and cold snaps can change them in an instant. Maybe that's why I have sheep, horses, cats and dogs. They've taught me to adapt and to keep adapting rather than getting set in my ways.

How much do sheep like alfalfa? Enough to run over me while I'm putting it in the feeders. Bubba moves them to another pasture so that I can feed.

The Unsung Hero of the Sheep Flock

 

The wether, center, is the decision maker when in with the ram lambs.

Imagine your only purpose in life is being a friend.

That's the role of our wether.

The castrated male sheep moves from pasture to pasture, offering friendship and comfort.

As herd and prey animals, sheep find comfort and safety in numbers. One of the worst things you can do to a sheep is isolate him or her. Yet, sometimes a sheep must be kept from the flock.

Because Katahdins can breed year-round, and we don't want lambs year-round, the ram must be separated from the ewes for several months of the year. But isolating a ram for months on end is cruel, and leads to an aggressive (or even more aggressive) animal.

Thus, the wether and ram spend months hanging out together, usually in a pasture far away from the ewes. When with the ram, the wether grazes by his side and ruminates next to him.

On our farm, the wether's social circle changes several times throughout the year. Now, that it's winter, and we don't have a breeding ram, the wether hangs out with the ewe flock. He bellies up to the hay feeder with the ewes, and says nothing as they have their ewe squabbles.

In the summer, when we wean the ram lambs, he'll move over to the ram lamb flock. Lambs are horrible decision makers, and having a calm adult sheep  helps them negotiate those big decisions in life, like whether to go through the gate opening or try to run through the fence, or whether to run at the sight of a dog or turn and face it. Our current wether is a mellow fellow and brings a calmness to the ram lamb flock.

When we get another breeding ram, then the wether will move in with him.

The wether does this without complaint or protest. Maybe, he realizes that being a friend is not such a bad lot in life.

Counting Sheep

Ask me how many horses I have and I answer promptly.

Two.

How many chickens?

Five. (It's been a rough chicken year)

How many cats?

Two indoor and two outdoor.

How many dogs?

I pause on this question, depending on who is doing the asking. If it's a sheepdog friend, I'll say six. If it's someone else, I'll dance around that question as I don't want to sound like a crazy dog lady.

How many sheep?

This question gets a quizzical look, and it's not because I don't want to appear like a crazy sheep lady. It's that the number varies with the seasons.

During the winter, we keep about 35-40 ewes. About half of those are bred; the others, a combination of older cull ewes and ewe lambs, are kept for training the Border collies.

In late March and early April, the sheep population explodes during lambing season, and the number usually climbs to 70-75 sheep.

Then, over the course of the next several months, the numbers drop.

The ewe flock grazing on a November day.

I sell most of my yearling ewes that I've used for sheepdog training; I often sell some other ewes, either as culls or breeding stock; a few ram lambs are sold for breeding stock; others are sold for meat. Usually, by November or December, the number drops to about 35-40 ewes.

The ram lambs will be with us only for a few more weeks.

The white wether will join the ewe flock.

In the next few weeks, the last group of ram lambs is scheduled to go to the butcher. So, for three months, until lambing season, I'll be able to answer 37.

The Two-Fence Rule

 

The ewe lambs with their two house mothers.

As the days get shorter and the nights colder, our sheep care not about pumpkin spice, camp fires nor elections. For them, it's breeding season.

For me, it's strict adherence to the two-fence rule; two fences must separate the groups of sheep.

On the farm, unlatched gates happen. They don't happen often, but they do. When ewes or rams discover unlatched gates during breeding season, pregnancy happens, and it happens fast. One year, a ram impregnated three ewes in six hours. In another, an eight-hour party resulted in four pregnancies. The two-fence rule is meant to prevent that.

During the summer months and early fall, it's easy to adhere to the two-fence rule. We have two groups of sheep: the girls (mature ewes and ewe lambs) and the boys (mature ram, wether and ram lambs). Because we have several pastures, it's fairly easy to ensure that the girls and boys are not in adjacent pastures.

Now that it's breeding season, we have three groups of sheep: the ram lambs that will go to the butcher in November, the ewes lambs and house mothers that I'll use for working dogs on through the winter and spring; and the breeding ewes and ram.

Sticking to the two-fence rule becomes a three-ring circus. But breeding season is only for three weeks, and then we'll be back to two groups.

Two fences and 40 feet may separate the rams lambs from the ewes, but they're still drawn to each other.

In other farm happenings: Fall cleaning is beginning. A frost killed everything in the garden except for some chard and snow peas, so I'll be cleaning out the garden this week. And, then my attention turns toward field edges and fence rows.

Night Sounds I Don't Want to Hear

This was not the lamb bleating in the night. That would require too much energy for this guy.

Funny how a day after reading about the increased use of melatonin among children, a lamb is keeping me awake.

It is raining, as it has been for hours, and the windows are cracked open to let in a bit of breeze.

They're also letting in the sound of a bleating lamb.

It's not the cry of pain or fear or lonesomeness.

It's the cry of "I'm awake and I want my mommy."

Lambs, like children, play hard and sleep hard.

In the hours before sunset, they engage in lamb races, where the lamb pack runs in circles around the field, hen house or their mothers. After about 20 minutes of this, they fall into a heap, exhausted, and sleep through the night.

But downpours canceled lamb races last night. Instead of racing, the lambs retreated to the barn. And, at 3 a.m., one is not tired.

Usually when a lamb bleats, its mother responds. No ewe responds to this lamb, though.

I'm sure they're doing what parents do everywhere--hiding their heads under the pillows and hoping that someone else will take care of it.

Dog Training during a Pandemic

Frost practices penning over the weekend.

When I receive the Outlook calendar notifications, I'm reminded of where I planned to be this spring: at dog trials in Virginia, Tennessee, Wisconsin, Kentucky and Colorado.

Instead, I'm at home, training dogs and discovering some truths about myself, my dogs and training.

1. I like training and working dogs. Some love competition above all else. Others prefer to train. Others just love the farm work. The absence of competition made me realize that while I like the competitions, I also like working my dogs. With no competitions in the near future, I could stay inside when the cold wind blows (which it's been doing a lot this spring), but nearly every day I'm working the dogs. Even when moving the sheep to pastures, I find myself throwing in a little drive or flank work with the dogs.

2. Dog training has become more thoughtful and less stressful. Instead of reacting to a recent trial or preparing for the next one, I focus on what I, or the dog, need to work on. With my older dog Bubba, I've been playing around with shedding and penning, paying attention to where he is and where I am, and how we can impact the sheep. With my young dog Frost, we continue to work on driving, but throw in other exercises. This past weekend, we worked on penning and started some shedding training. If something's not working, I stop, think about what I can change and try again the next day. She's relaxed and eager to work every day.

3. More time means the young dog gets more practical farm work. If I have to move or sort sheep, and I'm in a hurry, I use an experienced dog. With more time, I can set up the situation where the young dog is likely to be successful. So Frost has helped move ewes and lambs, drive groups into the barn and other tasks.

But training in pandemic time has its downsides, too.

1. Staying at home doesn't put the needed miles on the dog. I still need to get Frosty out to new places where the terrain and the sheep are different.

2. Clinics or observations from experienced handlers are lacking. I tend to a wishful observer and benefit from professional input. While videoing a session helps, it's not the same as in-person observations.

3. It can be lonely. Sheepdog training has its highs and lows, and it's always more fun to have people to commiserate with and laugh about it.

Eventually my Outlook calendar will stop reminding me about canceled events, and eventually the dogs and I will get out and about again. I'm hopeful that we have benefited from pandemic time training.

Why Should the Birds have All the Fun?

It's that time of year when fields burst into yellow dandelion blooms and balls of fluffy sheep hair. The sheep are in full shed and rubbing against fences.

Birds are swooping down and gathering bits of white, tan, red and black fiber for their nests.

This year, I gathered some for myself and used the sheep hair for container gardening.

I grow herbs in pots near the back porch. While big pots of herbs look impressive, they can be back-breaking to move.

When foam packing peanuts were used in packaging, my mother reused them at the bottom of pots. They were lighter than soil and allowed for drainage.

This year, after seeing a posting on Facebook, I decided to give sheep hair fiber a try.

I put it in the bottom of the pots and then poured potting soil on top.

Last night, frost was predicted. As I was carrying the pots inside, I thought, "Coats! I should have felted the plants some coats."

Photo of hair sheep in various stages of shedding.

Celebrating too Early?

I was patting myself on the back for a successful lambing season: 34 lambs in 16 days, a nearly 200 percent lambing rate, two gentle assists, no dead lambs and only one undersized lamb who is determined to catch up.

Then, as I was moving the ewes and lambs to pasture, I saw it: a ewe with a bald patch on her side.

My flock are mostly Katahdins with a touch of Dorper. Unlike wool sheep, these hair sheep shed their winter coats in the spring and reveal a short, summer coat. But this ewe wasn't revealing a short coat. She had a bald spot.

I had 3 choices:

I could ignore it and hope it magically went away.

I could take a photo and post it to sheep groups on the internet and receive lots of advice on medications and treatments that may or may not work.

I could isolate the ewe and her twin lambs and call my vet.

When you own sheep, you do most of the vet work yourself. A vet call for a ewe is usually about half the price of the ewe. However, if you're worried about a flock issue--and visions of bald sheep were running through my head--then a vet call is worth it.

I called my vet. While his expertise is horses, he grew up with sheep and is familiar with most diseases, parasites, and other problems that affect sheep.

He ruled out mites and lice and other parasites. She was a big, healthy ewe who wasn't scratching, depressed or worried one bit about going bald. Hormones? This was her first pregnancy. Bedding? He wasn't sure. But he was almost definite it wasn't a flock problem. So, we dosed her with ivermectin and vitamins.

To be on the safe side, he recommended isolating her and her ewes from the flock for several weeks. And, unlike humans in this age of Covid-19, she doesn't have to wear a mask.

Update on 4/16/2020: After posting this, three yearling ewes also showed signs of hair loss. So, I contacted Brady Campbell who leads the sheep team at Ohio State University. I provided him with my vet's report, my hay analysis and a detailed description and history.

He reported that hair and wool loss in ewes post parturition isn't uncommon due the huge nutritional stresses on the ewe. While I was supplementing the ewes with corn due to the bad hay year, their diets were a little light in protein. So, I'm adding protein to their diets until the pastures come on in the next few weeks. 

And, on another note, a huge shout out to state extension services. They've always been a great resource for sheep, farming, gardening, etc. 

The Mind vs. the Tummy

Last year's bad hay crop means adjusting feed for my pregnant ewes.

I've got plenty of first-cutting hay that's just fine for the horses and dry (non-pregnant) ewes. But the pregnant ewes need more calorie-dense food.

In the past, that's been a second-cutting, alfalfa-grass mix. Second-cutting hay was scarce last year, and I only secured about a third of my usual hay supply. Thus, I'm supplementing with corn.

As ruminants, sheep don't do well with sudden changes in feed. So, I'm introducing corn slowly, giving a little more each day so that their guts can adjust over the course of a few weeks.

Their minds didn't take that long.

After the third day, they decided they liked corn and wanted more.

Now, whenever they see me, they baa and baa, demanding more. If I walk into the pasture, they come to me in hopes of getting corn.

"Don't get too used to this," I tell them, eyeing the pastures. When they green up, it'll be bye-bye corn.

What They Remember (Gael Returns to Herding Sheep)

I was more anxious than the dog.

Last week, Gael, my 2-year-old Border collie, returned to working sheep after a 13-month layoff.

A freak accident (hitting a board fence while playing with other dogs) caused a broken femur and torn ACL late in 2018. After two surgeries and months of rehabilitation she was deemed ready to go back to herding.

Before her accident, Gael had about 6 weeks of herding training. She'd been introduced to sheep in a calm and quiet manner and learned how to do balance work and some small outruns.

Would she remember that training? Or, would she be wild and crazed about working sheep?

My friend, Kay, who had started Gael on sheep, put Gael on a long line, walked her toward the sheep and asked for a lie down. Gael faced the sheep and dropped.

I held my breath, and then relaxed as Gael thoughtfully circled the sheep and did some balance work. Later, in the big field, when the sheep escaped to the barn, she quietly gathered them and brought them back. She hadn't forgotten her training.

During my time working dogs in Texas and the long drive home, I thought a lot about what dogs remember.

Bubba, my open dog, was raised, trained and trialed by Kay. I've been working him since May--and he's working well for me. However, when I sent him on a long outrun to gather a group of sheep near Kay, his muscle memory said, "bring the sheep to Kay." When a friend visits, Bubba remembers all the treats that friend fed him as a puppy. He sits in front of her and awaits a treat. When it's dinner time, he runs to his old crate in Kay's kennel and awaits his meal.

When I train dogs later today and in the coming days, I will be more conscious of what I'm teaching the dogs and making sure those are memories I want them to keep for weeks and years to come.

Meanwhile on the farm:
While I was away in Texas, it rained and rained. The cracks in the pasture from this summer's drought are almost gone and we have the dreaded winter mud. If given the choice between 30 or 40-degree days, I'll choose the 30-degree days, frozen ground and no mud. However, since there is no snow covering the ground, the sheep are happily grazing the pastures. So, for now, I'm keeping the slogging through the mud to a minimum.

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Good-bye Bon-Bon, Hello ...?

Years ago, we discovered the value of a wether (castrated male sheep).

Katahdin sheep can breed year-round. Because we don't want lambs year-round, the ram is only allowed to be with the ewes for a month in the fall.

So, what do we do with the ram for other 11 months? Being a flock animal, he's nervous and stressed if left alone. Put him with ewes and he breeds. Put him with rams, and he fights. The wether as his companion is the solution.

But here's the problem with wethers. If their only jobs are to eat and to keep the ram company, they get quite large. This fall, our 4-year-old wether, Bon-Bon, was as wide as he was tall. I was unsure how long he'd stay sound--and I certainly wasn't looking forward to trying to trim his hooves. It was time to send him to the butcher and get a replacement.

 Bon-Bon (on left) with Apollo, the ram on the right.
 In this photo, Bon-Bon is not quite a year old.

Hoping the new wether would stay on the small side, I selected our smallest wether to keep.

He's the one in the photo with the hay in his mouth. In the past month, he's been grazing with the unbred ewes and eating like it's his only job. Yesterday, though, he was introduced to his other job: keeping the ram company.

Because he isn't used to being in a flock of two, nor familiar with the ram pasture, I put the wether, ram and two bred ewes in the ram pasture. Next weekend, I'll remove the ewes.

In the meantime, I'll need to come up with a name for him. The ram is Titan.

Fun fact: This past week a friend asked if I knew of the origin of bellwether. It refers to the old practice of putting a bell around the neck of the wether leading the flock.

Meanwhile on the farm: We've already had two mornings this month when I've stepped outside onto snow. Our 15-acre pasture though still has plenty of grass for grazing. Unfortunately for me it's not near the barn. Fortunately for the Border collies, it's a trek from the barn and they get to help move sheep daily.

Yelling Louder is Not the Solution

When I step into the sheep pasture with my Border collie, the training isn't just about him.

It's also about me.

As a trainer and handler, I'm trying to move from okay to good. So, I'm working on avoiding using commands as corrections.

This habit started innocently enough. My dog was running; the sheep were moving; I wanted to stop the action and said, "Lie down."

The dog didn't lie down.

So I repeated the command in a louder voice.

The dog still didn't lie down. So I yelled "lie down" in my meanest, angriest voice and then went running toward the dog.

By doing this, I was teaching my dog to ignore the soft and a-little-louder lie down command. He learned he didn't have to lie down until I got good and angry.

I was also confusing my dog. I was telling him what he should do (lie down) and yelling at him (correcting) at the same time.

For the past few years, I've been trying to break this habit.

It takes a lot of effort and planning.

Now, when I go into the pasture, I imagine my dog gathering the sheep and bringing them to me. As I ask for the lie down (in a soft voice or whistle), I imagine watching to see if he does. If he doesn't lie down, then I don't repeat the command. Instead, I step toward the dog, slap my hat against my leg and growl at him. When he lies down, I step away and let him continue working the sheep.

After imagining that whole scenario, I send my dog on the outrun--and am prepared to react correctly if he doesn't take the lie down.

When I'm thoughtful, when I plan, I usually do it correctly. But it's still a work in progress.

Meanwhile on the farm...

In the fall, we breed about half of our ewes, and I use the other half for dog training. I mark the bred ewes with grease markers.

After trimming hooves this weekend, my husband and I re-marked the bred ewes. Confession: It brings out my inner child. Anyways, I might have been a little excessive in my marking.

Little Victories on the Sheepdog Trial Field

The trial field at Edgeworth.

I can fill pages with everything I learned at the Virginia Triple Crown Sheepdog Trials. (But, because this is a blog--I'll refrain, sort of, I promise).

Over the course of nine days, Bubba ran six times on three different fields with three different types of sheep. Emma ran five times.

My main goal was to continue forming a partnership with Bubba. He arrived at the farm in late May, fully trained. But he has a different style than my previous dogs--and I have a different style than his previous handler. We aren't yet a solid team (though we made big leaps over the past few weeks).

I also wanted to get more experience on working on big fields with different types of sheep.

So here's a little about what we learned:
1. A dog that finds sheep at 600 yards away is an amazing thing.
I have never sent a dog 600 yards to find sheep, and I stood at the post, whistle at the ready, watching and hoping. The dogs took off, looking and casting out, running over hills and out of sight a few times, and I had to trust they were on the right path. They were.

2. Both of my dogs did poorly at flanking on the fetch (until they got closer to me).
That means I'm going to have to practice flanking on the fetch, walking out to correct them, and to keep increasing my distance. It'll be a good winter project.

3. Eleven minutes is a really long time.
Over the past few years, I've really worked on focusing and observing what my dog and the sheep are doing on the field (instead of what I hope they are doing). As the dog is working, I'm watching and asking: When I give a flank whistle, does my dog take it? Does he slice his flank? How are the sheep responding? Where is the line? This still doesn't come  naturally to me. Thus, 11 minutes is a really long time. (Most courses I run are in the 8-minute range).

4. Even at a sheepdog trial, you can phone a friend.
With Bubba, I've been working on whistle cues, flanks, timing and shedding, but not so much on penning. After two failed attempts at the pen, I called his previous handler and trainer. "He's a big dog," she said. If he sliced a flank, even a little bit, it would be enough to unsettle the sheep. "Tell him to get out before you flank him," she said. I tried it at the next trial. It wasn't smooth, nor pretty. But it helped and we penned the sheep.

5. Working four lambs is really hard. 
I have lambs at home. I know how unpredictable they can be, especially when they don't have an older ewe as a leader. Working four lambs that were in a new environment and that hadn't been worked in small groups was really challenging. Sometimes they wanted to look at the dog. Sometimes they wanted to run. Sometimes they did a little of both.

6. You can retire, and still be impressed with your dog
Sheep behave differently depending on who is in their group, the dog, the weather and the time of day. At one trial, I ran during a difficult afternoon stretch when the sheep seemed to be winning. They kept running back to the set out pens, and there were more disqualifications and retires than scores on the board. When I sent Emma to get the sheep, she found them, but then a wily ewe got past her and bolted down a hill and out of sight. I could not see what was going on. After scanning the hilltop for what seemed like minutes, I retired and began the 400 yards up the field to find my dog. That's when I heard, "She's got the sheep" being relayed from the set-out person. Several seconds later, the sheep appeared on the hilltop, and Emma was bringing them to me--and handlers were applauding her efforts. She won.

7. At a trial, my whistles sound like a banshee--and Bubba doesn't speak that language.
My trial whistles sound nothing like my practice whistles. Thank you adrenaline. My other dogs have put up with it. Bubba does not. To him, it sounds like I'm yelling at him. Don't let his size fool you. He's a big marshmallow. Halfway through my third run, I realized what was happening and softened my whistles. The improvement was dramatic. Bubba is going to train me to soften my whistles, and that's a good thing.

8. Bubba is also going to teach me to watch for and correct sliced flanks.
Bubba is a big dog and a little slice has a big impact on the sheep. When I saw it and corrected for it, the drive got better.

9. Not all sheep are the same.
Katahdin sheep were used in all three trials--and all behaved differently. At the first trial, we worked four Katahdin lambs that were unpredictable and tricky and not used to being worked by dogs. At the second, we worked two lambs and a ewe that were seldom worked by dogs. While the lambs had a leader, the lead ewe often acted like she had no friends and would split from the lambs. Both of these combinations required a dog that could push the sheep along. At the third trial, we worked three ewes who were used to being worked by dogs. I made the mistake of not stopping Bubba when he reached his sheep and putting the brakes on him. It made for a lively run and a lesson learned.

10. My dogs amaze me.
No, I'm not bragging. I just am amazed at how hard they work and how hard they try to be right and how willing they are to work with me and to put up with my blunders.

A Plan B for Winter

I'm not sure if the local post master has a good poker face--or if shipping baggies of grass is an everyday thing.

For me, it's a new thing.

It all started when I read this article by the Ohio State University Sheep Team. In it, the OSU professors discussed the poor-quality hay crop.  A wet spring and early summer meant cutting was delayed a month for many farmers. The resulting hay is past maturity, not that digestible and not that high in calories.

The hay in their example provided so few calories that a non-pregnant ewe would have to eat 9 lbs. of it to meet her daily calorie requirement. A ewe can't eat that much in a day. It's a like a human trying to get their daily calorie intake by eating only celery.

We celebrated finally getting hay in the barn.

Our hay was baled on the same day as the hay in their example. Because of a dry summer, it's the only hay we have.

While I'm an optimist, I'm also a realist. If I can't get second-cutting (more calorie dense) hay, what's my Plan B? First, I had to find out how much protein and calories my hay has. (On the good news front, it's very pretty and smells fresh. The Haflinger ponies gobble it down).

For the first time ever, I sent hay samples to a laboratory for testing.

Okay, for me, that sounded like a scary, complicated process. It's not. I took samples from three bales, put them in plastic bags and took them to the post office.

It's a rural post office. Maybe they ship lots of forage, soil and other crop samples.

Five days after shipping the samples, my test results arrived in my inbox. I had 3 pages of numbers, percentages and abbreviations--and no idea how to interpret them.

Luckily, the local OSU extension agent did.

The verdict: while the hay's not great, it'll keep the ponies and dry (non-pregnant) ewes well-fed through winter. In late pregnancy, the pregnant ewes are going to need another source of calories (something more dense). I can either supplement with better quality hay or grain. I can also consider changing my breeding dates to take full advantage of green grass.

But I can at least develop a plan--and know it'll probably change.

Groundhog Day--and Hay

I've never put much stock in the groundhog.

Though he's right sometimes. The furry rodent saw his shadow last year and predicted six more weeks of winter. It was more like 10 weeks. I vividly remember wondering if spring would ever come.

I also remember counting bales of hay, and realizing that we were going to run out before the spring grass emerged.

My mother always says that you should have half your hay supply left on Groundhog Day.

Because even if spring is arriving in six weeks, that doesn't mean that lush pastures arrive then. It takes weeks for the grass to turn green and start growing. Grazing time usually begins in earnest around mid-April, about 10-11 weeks after Groundhog Day.

On this Groundhog Day, I am counting hay bales, and noting that we have about 65 percent of our hay supply left.

And, this morning the groundhog predicted an early spring.

News around the farm: Freezing fog and snow cover make for a beautiful morning. It'll be melting some today and a lot tomorrow, bringing mud. But for now, I'm enjoying the scenery.

While Others Buy Bread and Milk...

The weather forecast predicted single digit temperatures, up to 10 inches of snow and 45 mph wind gusts later in the day.

So, I took an extra long dog walk in the morning. The dogs didn't seem to mind the freezing rain and ice pellets piling up on their backs.

Emma was too busy hunting rabbits to notice the freezing rain.

Caeli, now 13+ years old, loves the daily walks.

Jack says working sheep would be more fun.

If the weather forecast is correct, they'll be spending a few days hanging out in the house.

I let the horses out into the pasture. The Haflingers are designed for the cold, and only come to the barn for feeding.

Emma and I then drove the sheep out to the hay feeders in the pasture.

I then went to work preparing for the storm. I moved hay feeders under the barn's overhang and set up a wind block for the sheep.

I brought in armload after armload of firewood.

And, then I grabbed a book and made popcorn.

Who eats break and milk during a snowstorm?

What I Really Want for Christmas

While I appreciate a 50-degree, sunny day in December, I'm dreaming of frozen ground.

It seems like my farm chores, winter, spring and fall involve trudging through mud.

The mud is so prevalent that it's become part of the weather report in my journal:

Cloudy skies, 36 degrees, mud. 

Windy, 41 degrees, mud.

Another muddy day.

Meteorologists would point out that mud is not a weather term, but I doubt many of them are walking through it, in fear of falling or losing a boot.

The mud is worse around the gates.

I'm sure the mud seems worse this year, as we're past due for spreading gravel under gates--and one of our pastures was just planted this spring. New pastures have more bare space, and few roots to pull the water downward to those underground reservoirs.

But maybe, I think, I've just become old and crotchety and obsessed with the weather (and mud).

Or, maybe we've had a lot more rain.

I check the rainfall totals for the nearest weather station, about 30 miles from us. To date, we're about six inches above normal.

And then, because I can be a data geek, I check the rainfall for 2017, and see it's about 10 inches above normal.

That's a lot of extra water--and a lot of extra mud.

December 19, 2018--Light winds, sunny skies, high of 50 degrees, MUD.

Breaking in the New Farm Hand

For the past few years, Jack's been my number one farm dog. He moves the calmly and confidently, and the ewes never question his power.

I trust him to take care of me and the sheep. This summer, when the lambs were finding all types of ways to tangle themselves in buckets, he was the one I counted on to gently move them into a corner where I could catch and untangle them.

But Jack is well into his 10th year, and Border collies don't live forever. Another dog needs to step up and help out.

Niki is eager to do the job. At age 4, she has the energy and drive to work all day long, and the ewes never question her power. However, we have not developed that trust that Jack and I have.

Building trust takes work, and a lot of time. This fall, I've used her as the primary chore dog. Because chore work sometimes turns into training sessions, chores often take longer. And it's seldom easier to use her rather than Jack.

This week, wet weather forced me to take the sheep on an alternative route to their winter pasture. Rather than taking them through the waterway, their journey took them into an unfenced part of the farm, over a culvert and down the driveway.

Because the sheep had never taken that route before and never been across the culvert, I didn't know how they'd react.

The easy thing would have been to use Jack for the job.

Instead, I took Niki.

I knew she'd have to push the sheep enough to convince them to go over the culvert, but not so much they'd be scared and do some silly suicidal sheep thing, like jump off the driveway and into the rocks below.

She moved the sheep out of the pasture, down the driveway and toward the culvert. When I gave her a lie down command, she took it and waited, watching the sheep drift over the culvert.

With a few flanks, they were safely in their new pasture, and I was trusting Niki a little more.

Truths about Sheep

1. If the ground is soft, sheep hooves do not wear down and must be trimmed.
2. We've had 43+ inches of rain this year.
3. The hooves must be trimmed.
4. Sheep do not particularly care for hoof trimming.
5. Neither do I.
6. If one wishes to practice good animal husbandry, neither 4 or 5 matter.

7. A sheep chair makes trimming hooves easier.
8. Unlike humans, sheep do not go, "Ah, a recliner" and hop in.
9. A dog cannot put a sheep into the chair (in the correct position).
10. I can get the smaller sheep into the sheep chair, but not the heavy, husky ewes.
11. The majority of the flock is heavy, husky ewes.
12. If one wishes to practice good animal husbandry, neither 8, 9 or 11 matter.

13. If I catch, halter and tie a ewe, I can trim her hooves.
14. My ewes are not fond of being caught, haltered or tied.
15. Sheep are built low to the ground.
16. Trimming hooves requires a lot of stooping, bracing and contorting.
17. A dog cannot trim sheep hooves.
18. If ones wishes to practice good animal husbandry,  none of this matters.

19. To accomplish the task and save my body, I trim 4-5 sheep a day.
20. When one has 30 ewes, the process takes a week.
21. Not a single ewe said thank you.
22. Not a single ewe admired her pedicure.
23. Not a single ewe asked when we could do that again.
24. Neither did I.

Searching for That Sweet Spot

Niki brings in the flock so that I could separate the flock. 

Spring is five months away, and that means sheep breeding season starts today.

Over the years, we've lambed as early at late February and as late as late April--all in an effort to hit that sweet spot when:

--Winter is over.

--The spring grass is coming on.

--Fly season hasn't started.

--The lambs are market weight by late October.

--Lambs are born before sheepdog trial season begins.

We've been raising sheep for well over a decade, and we have yet to hit that sweet spot.

This past year, we opted for early lambing, and ended up feeding hay as we watched winter hang on and on.

So, for 2019, we're aiming for the first day of spring. (A ewe's gestation period is 5 months).

This afternoon, I sorted the flock, separating the breeding ewes from the ewe lambs and dog-working sheep. I turned the ram out with the breeding ewes and moved them to a separate pasture.

In five months, we hope to have lambs born into sunshine and green grass.

Will it happen? We'll just have to wait and see.

Roxie, the mischievous barn cat,  parked herself in front of the pasture gate, making the sheep sorting process more of a challenge.